


I Speak For Gallifrey

by calapine



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23751640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calapine/pseuds/calapine
Summary: Time travel, and an option it provides.
Relationships: The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	I Speak For Gallifrey

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2005. I was really, really thrilled about Gallifrey going BOOM (again).
> 
> (I wasn't.)

This sort of thing was never in the job description, but then the unpleasant parts rarely are. Sooner or later (and, Rassilon, how I hope it's later) one gets used to the ugly parts. You have to, if you want to stay alive; you have to make sure that your opponents know that even if you are not prepared to use any means necessary to succeed, then there’s always an underling who’ll take care of it for you.

This one though, this one requires the personal touch, if only because I could trust no-one else with such a task. More than that I was not willing to admit to myself; more than that and I was afraid that my resolve would falter. Even now, there are doubts: I question whether it would be possible to go back, and change events a second time.

The quarters were not as I expected, even knowing him as I did. I could only assume that he had a very understanding Cardinal, but then I remembered who his teachers at the Academy had been. I remembered how Azmael had left Gallifrey when he retired to rule Jaconda, with the willing consent of its people, and how Borusa had kept his unconventionality hidden for centuries before his fall from grace. They would have tolerated such indulgences, perhaps even understood them.

The walls were colourful. I did not recognise the artwork, but it was abstract, heavy in primary colours. I suspected Earth, for even now he knew of that world. The rest of the room was no more conventional: the standard units had been torn out, replaced with mismatched tables and cupboards and stands, no two from the same design period. I could recognise the Earth style of a few, even place the century, but most were from unfamiliar worlds or times.

My eyes passed over the objects displayed, and studied the neat bookshelf for a moment. It was filled with volumes, mostly Gallifreyan. I glanced at the desk which was, surprisingly, the only chaotic part of this very neat room. My fingers touched the paper book sitting open on its polished surface, the flowing black script written on the page. It was a journal, each elegant word recording his thoughts and, for a moment, my conscience beckoned to me.

I ignored it and activated the door to the bedroom. It slid open smoothly and with barely a sound. Here the lighting was low, soft, calming.

He was asleep, entangled in the arms of his lover. I looked at him: pale skin, blonde hair, and almost angelic features. My sight was undoubtedly tinted by my anger at Time for her cruelty. Even the lover, though I knew what he would become, I could look on with the little compassion that I allowed myself. He would not die tonight for, despite all his crimes, despite his rejection of our ways, our morals, our laws. Despite all this, he was never the enemy.

I drew the staser, stunned the lover, and holstered the weapon. He barely stirred, but it was enough to rouse the other. The blonde-haired young man shook himself awake, and his eyes went wide at the intruder in his quarters.

“Good evening, Doctor,” I said calmly and he frowned as he scrutinised my features. It was not his name, then. But it reminded me of who he'd become.

“Councillor?” he asked, confused as he took my rank from the robes I'd chosen to wear.

I shook my head and moved forward too quickly to give him a chance to react. The knife was in my hand and then in his chest. The first blow to his right heart; the second to his left. It might not have been enough, but I would wait.

There were quicker ways to kill him. But I wanted him to see his killer and I wanted him to know that he was going to die. Even if he didn’t know who I was or why I had done this.

The look on his face should have horrified me, but instead I found it comical. I worried, for a moment, that it was shock, that I would break down laughing. I started to pace the room, looking it over and trying to decide if I should make this appear as anything other than a straightforward murder.

He gasped then. He was trying to speak.

“Koschei.”

I frowned. I couldn't bring myself to torment him further in his final moments.

“He’s only stunned,” I told him.

For an instant, he seemed to smile. I was disgusted and turned away. My eyes ran across the small bookshelf next to the bed. The old antiques and the antiques that had been picked up when they were new. There was no way he could have collected all of this on the few Academy authorised off-world trips.

There were those doubts again. Even now I could save him. Even now. The doubts caused a start of fear that I could not follow through.

I stepped swiftly to the bed and cut the Doctor’s throat.

It was done.

If I wanted to be completely certain I should have removed the head, but that was too much to stomach. The injury to the throat was severe enough to jump start the regenerative process that the damage to the hearts would have begun. Of course, with both hearts damaged, it would be unsuccessful.

I checked his pulse, his breathing.

The Doctor was dead; dead before he had even graduated the Academy.

I dropped the knife and took out the bio-unit to eliminate any evidence bio matter I might have left. I set the thing on automatic so that it would clean away all physical traces of my presence here.

The time disturbance was another matter. There was no way to eliminate that. Disguise it, perhaps, but that was more trouble than it was worth. Besides there would be enough disruption caused by the Doctor’s premature death. Enough, perhaps, to end it. To prevent it from ever having started.

The blood was dripping on the floor now. Dark blood. Light blood. Mingling together, but not quite mixing. Koschei would be the first to find him, and it would be many hours before he woke. It was a cruel thing to do. Perhaps cruel enough that he would twist into his megalomaniacal ways without the Doctor’s presence. So much the better.

It was time that I left.

The TT capsule landed in the main TARDIS bay without incident, and I stepped out, now clothed in my normal robes. I had done what no-one had dared to do. I had gone into Gallifrey’s past and I had changed it and survived. I was safe from the temporal fallout, but, despite the limitations of the butterfly effect and Time’s abhorrence of a vacuum, with such a piece of the web as the Doctor cut down there would be changes, and I would need to find out what they were.

I did not take those actions lightly; this was a matter of survival, for all of us. The Doctor would have destroyed our entire race, and he would have been the sole survivor. That was the future I had seen, casting its dark shadow over the past. That is the future I have prevented.

I have killed one; I have saved millions. No one will ever know.

The Castellan and a contingent of the Chancellery Guard met me at the entrance of the TARDIS bay.

“A productive trip, President Romana?” asked the Castellan.

“Very much so,” I replied.


End file.
